Imaginary
by SpiritWolf13
Summary: WEE!CHESTER FIC. They knew something was wrong. Sam’s loosing control and Dean and John have to figure out what’s happening before things go from bad to worse for the oldest of the three Winchesters.
1. Chapter 1

Imaginary

Chapter 1

Summary: WEE!CHESTER FIC. They knew something was wrong. Sam's loosing control and Dean and John have to figure out what's happening before things go from bad to worse for the oldest of the three Winchesters.

* * *

The door of the small cabin slammed open and fifteen year old Dean came running in like he had a pack of hellhounds on his tail. But then again, he'd been there before, so it wasn't that hard for John to jump to that conclusion. The oldest Winchester leapt upright from the kitchen table and ran forward, pulling a .45 from the back of his jeans, whole body tensed and eyes darting searching for the source of Dean's panic.

Dean stumbled forward crashing into his father, before gripping the older man tightly. 'He wasn't there!'

John lowered his hand and put the gun back where he kept it tucked in the back of his jeans. He sighed and scratched at the stubble on his chin. 'What? Dean you don't run….where's your brother?' He looked behind Dean waiting for their youngest family member to appear, with his wavy mop of dark hair and beaming smile. His eyes narrowed and he grabbed hold of Dean, face serious and voice deep. 'Where's Sam?!'

'I don't know!' Dean all but yelled, his light brown hair standing up on end as he ran a worried hand through it, his watch sliding down as he lifted his arm. John cast an eye over his eldest boy, the teen had hit a growth spurt a year back and was now just under a head shorter than the oldest, and the older of the two boy's was now steadily filling out his lanky frame. Dean rested his hands on his fathers arm and squeezed tightly 'He waits for me at the park till I get out of school…every day!' John nodded; because of course he knew this. Dean had relayed the information to Sam every day before they left the cabin. 'He's….he knows he's not allowed to walk back alone…he knows!' At this he searched his Dad's face, waiting for something, maybe a joking…he's here….but instead Johns face tightened. 'He wasn't there! I looked for an hour, I asked everyone around!'

At this John's eyes moved to the clock above the fireplace and noted it was almost five.

'What if something…or someone grabbed him Dad?' Dean whispered pulling away and throwing the backpack still on his back onto the couch, before running to his bedroom.

'Dean!' John headed to the room just as Dean ran back past with the shotgun.

* * *

Just as the two eldest ran into the living area once more, the door opened and ten year old Sam stepped into the room, hand still on the handle he paused, just before a pair of large calloused hands grabbed his arms and his father knelt down in front of him.

'Sammy?'

'Dad what's wrong?' Sam peered through his long dark fringe and peered innocently up at his father.

Dean pushed his Dad gently aside and before John could utter anything, Dean suddenly took over. 'What the hell is wrong with you?!' Dean snapped. 'You're supposed to wait at the park!'

Sam froze and looked to his left, staring at the empty space for a moment before looking back at Dean. 'Jeremy said it would be okay…we went to the pond.'

Dean shook him gently. 'Who's Jeremy!? Did you cross that busy road by yourself!?'

'Dean.' John barked his name and Dean looked up before reluctantly backing away and leaning over his brother he pushed the door close, before dragging the small boy to the sofa where he sat him down in the armchair.

John stepped forward. 'Sam, do you have any idea how stupid that was?' He didn't' raise his voice, but spoke with an authority that meant yelling would be unnecessary. 'Did you know how worried we were? We make rules for a reason Sam, something could have grabbed you!' His tone became deeper and Sam lowered his head, pressing a hand against watering eyes. 'Sam!'

'I'm sorry.' Sam whispered. The ten year olds feet swung back and forth, banging against the base of the chair. He looked up at Dean. 'I'm sorry Dean.'

Dean nodded and picking up the shotgun, set it against the wall. John stood up and looked down at Sam. 'For that tonight you can run five extra laps around the cabin. Understand! And you don't ever do that again!'

Sam nodded and then shook his head, eyes staring again out at something beside him. 'No.'

John turned around. 'No? Excuse me.'

Dean had also turned at the no and was staring between both his brother and Father. Sam was sitting with his mouth covered with his hands and then he shook his head. 'Not you Dad.'

'Not me?'

Sam nodded. 'Can I go to my room?'

John nodded and Sam hopped off the chair and ran for his separate bedroom. Both older Winchesters confused when Sam paused at the door and waited.

'Sa-' John grunted and staggered forward as the painting on the wall fell and knocked him on the back of the head. He heard Sam gasp and whisper something before the sound of his youngest boy's footsteps were heard making a hasty retreat.

'Dad you okay?' Dean picked the painting from the floor and set it on the mantle above the fireplace, before reaching up to see the damage.

'I'm fine Dean.' He snapped, before his tone softened. 'Can you put dinner on; I've got to go to the town's library for an hour.'

'Sure Dad.'

'Good man, I won't be home late….and find out if something's bothering your brother.'

'You saw it too.'

John nodded. 'Something's not right.'

Dean looked at the hallway and then back to John with a grim smile.'I'm already on it.'

'Okay when I've left you know what to do.'

'Yes Sir.'

* * *

Dean watched John grab everything he needed, before locking the door securely and pouring a line of salt across the doorway. Leaning against the door he glared down towards the direction of their rooms, brow furrowed at the sounds of his brothers whispering.

'You could of hurt him.' Sam hissed, pacing back and forth in front of the door.

There was a short laugh and Sam whirled to look at the second figure on the bed behind, the black haired boy sat crossed legged, back resting against the headboard, dark brown eyes dull and cold. 'But I didn't Sammo did I.' The boy leapt from the bed and walked up to the ten year old, coming to a stop nose to nose with Sam, he grinned and put a hand on Sam's shoulder.

'Jeremy you can't do that again…You can't hurt them, you promised.'

The boy shoved Sam into the wall and sneered. 'You told them my name Sammo.'

Sam pushed the boy back and rubbed at his shoulder. 'It was a slip Jeremy, sorry.'

Sam span as the door to his room opened and Dean stepped into the gap. 'Sammy, who ya talking to?' Green eyes quickly scanned the room, before falling back on his younger sibling.

Jeremy looked over at Sam, who met the dull eyed boy's gaze. 'No one.'

Dean nodded and scanned the empty room a second time, before looking back down at his brother. Sam was rubbing at his left shoulder and he put his hand over Sam's. 'What did you do to your shoulder?'

'Tell him you tripped at school.' Jeremy snapped, a sneer donning his young face. Dark eyes boring into Sam's hazel as the ten year old turned his head to look at the other child.

Dean waited with a confused expression as Sam looked at the spot in front of the drawers, the empty space, before fixing his eyes back on Dean. 'Tripped at school.'

'Wanna help me make dinner.' Dean eyed his brother, the concern plainly evident in his expression. 'Making lasagne.'

Sam nodded and stepped forward. Dean held the door open and smiled, but the smile dropped as Sam's arm looked like it had been suddenly grabbed and Sam span sharply.

'Sammy?'

'Say no!' Jeremy hissed, pulling Sam so he was closer, their noses almost grazing and Jeremy's icy breath cold against his face.

Dean stepped forward and grabbing Sam turned him to face him. 'Hey.' He looked at the space in which Sam had been gazing and pulling Sam to him he whispered. 'Is something here?'

Sam looked over Dean's shoulder at the boy behind. 'No….I'm going to do my homework.'

'Sam-'

'Dean don't.' He sighed, recognising the big brother tone. 'Can you leave my room now?'

Dean frowned and slowly rose to his full height, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. 'I'll be in the kitchen okay, if you need me.'

Sam nodded and as he left Jeremy slammed the door and turned to face him. 'He's annoying me.' White teeth gleamed and the boy's eyes sparked for a second.

'No! You leave him alone, you don't touch my brother!' Sam stepped forward, hand clenched into tight fists. 'You hear me Jeremy, you do it and I'll-'

'You'll what…' Jeremy smirked, grabbing Sam's arm and throwing the younger boy into the closet, the wood cracking and the handle digging into Sam's upper back. 'It's your fault I'm here Sammo, you wanted me to be here.'

'No I didn't.'

'Yes you did…. You and your family trespassed into the graveyard, you read my stone.' Jeremy snarled, almost inhumanely and Sam shook his head.

'I didn't ask you to follow me! I didn't ask that of you! How would I know you'd be a psychotic kid?'

Jeremy picked up the mirror attached to the wall. Whirling the boy smashed it against the closet and curling a pale hand around a large section he pointed it towards Sam. Both heard the sudden clanging of something being dropped down the hall, followed by the pounding of feet, but neither reacted. 'You wanted to know what kinda kid I was Sam, you asked for me…Now I'm going nowhere, I like you, you're stuck with me.' He turned sharply as something heavy collided with the door and began pounding on it. 'If only your family wasn't in the way.'

* * *

'Sam open the door!' Dean yelled, his voice muffled through the wood. 'Sammy! Sam you okay?' The door handle jiggled, but remained shut.

'I'm fine Dean….I dropped the mirror.' Sam shouted, not taking his eyes off the angry spirit in front of him.

'You threatened my family before, but I promised I wouldn't tell my Dad about you, and in return you promised not to hurt them.' Sam whispered, eyes staring into the other boys dull ones.

Jeremy snarled and stepped back, the door to the room flinging open. Sam watched the mirror shard drop to the floor and Dean stumbled forward and land hard on his knees, the shotgun held in is hands skittering to a stop at Jeremy's feet. Jeremy crouched to exam it and while Dean jumped to his feet and headed towards Sam Jeremy lifted the gun and pointed it at Dean's exposed back.

'Sammy what happened?'

Sam's eyes widened and placing his hands on his brother's chest he shoved hard pushing Dean back and out the way, before stepping in Dean's place and staring down the barrel. 'Put it down!' He snapped and Dean turned his head, missing the gun being placed back on the ground, instead simply seeing the gun lying discarded at the base of the bed.

'Sammy? Hey hey, look at me.' He lifted a hand to the ten year olds face and turned it towards him. 'What's going on with you?' He whispered.

Sam looked across at Jeremy who was now rocking on his heels. Dull brown eyes staring up at the ceiling through his dark hair, humming a creepy tune as he did. Sam covered his ears and shook his head. 'Stop it!'

'Sammy I'm not doing anything.'

Jeremy laughed and started humming louder and fixed dark eyes on Dean. 'Stop it!'

'Sammy!' Dean grabbed his face and yanked it back, worried eyes scanning his siblings face. 'Stop what?' He grabbed Sam and pulled on his arm, trying to drag him from the room. 'I'm calling Dad.'

'No.' Sam whispered, watching as Jeremy's head snapped up at the words. 'No don't call Dad, I'm sorry.'

'Tell me what's wrong.' He crouched in front of Sam. 'Sam?'

'Nothing Dean.' He looked back at Jeremy.

'No, you don't get to tell me nothing, understand…you don't, not after that act.' Dean snapped.

Jeremy sighed and looked at Sam. 'I'll get rid of him.' Without another word the boy vanished.

'No!'

Dean was taken back by the sudden yell, and his face creased with worry. 'Sam what is-' He was cut off as something crashed in the kitchen and both of them ran from Sam's room towards the kitchen.

* * *

Dean stopped at the doorway and eyed the food splattered across the linoleum flooring, the lasagnes lay upturned and some of it thrown at the walls. The bowls that were in the sink lay in shattered pieces and Dean indicated for Sam to stay back as he stepped forward.

Sam's gaze moved from the shattered china to the black haired boy sitting on the counter, legs swinging and a disturbing smile on his face.

'Sam…..go grab the mop and pan and brush from the closet…go! I don't want you to stand on this or for Dad to come home and see this.'

Sam nodded and Jeremy leapt from the counter, passing Dean as he followed Sam from the doorway. As the cold breeze passed him Dean looked up with narrowed eyes and watched his brother's retreating back.

* * *

John pushed open the door, stepping over the salt lines, and made his way towards the kitchen where a light was on. He'd spent an hour and half at the library then realising he was short on cash, had gone to the nearest bar for a quick hustle before making his way back. Glancing at the clock he noticed it was almost ten, meaning that Sam should be in bed and the person bustling around the kitchen would be his oldest.

He pushed the door all the way and had to duck suddenly as a vegetable knife buried itself in the frame directly at eye level. 'It's me!'

Dean lowered the bread knife and stuck it back in the wooden post. 'Sorry, I didn't hear the door open.'

John quirked an eyebrow in question, Dean has always been very aware of his surroundings and this was the first time since Dean was seven that he had snuck up unawares on his oldest.

'What's wrong?' John pulled at the knife and was quite impressed to find it had buried itself to the handle in the word, and it took him three hard tugs before he could pull it out all the way. He slipped it into the sink. 'What happened?' He indicated the shattered plates in the trash and the chipped mug on the side beside the kettle.

'Honestly….I don't know, but I think Sam might have something to do with it.' Dean didn't look up from the knife he was drying.

'Sammy? Why, did you talk to him?'

Dean dropped the cloth he was holding and slid the knife into its wooden holder and turned to face his Dad. 'I tried…He was acting…so weird, talking to nothing, yelling, he smashed the mirror in his room….but whenever I ask him something, he clams up or something happens.'

'Happens?' John sat down in one of the chairs around the table, head looking up as the soft click of the kettle heating caught his attention.

Dean nodded, reaching for the tin of coffee he sighed. 'We were talking in his room, and then we heard a crash…the kitchen was trashed…then after dinner I tried to talk to him again, but the TV blew up…smoke and everything. Then after I sorted that out and tried again the lights blew.' He rubbed a hand over his face, and it made Johns heart sink as he realised how much older than his fifteen years Dean looked. 'Here.' He set the mug of black coffee in front of his father and sat opposite him.

'You think it may be a spirit.'

Dean nodded. 'But if it was Sam would tell me…I mean, it's a spirit, he knows what they're capable of.'

John sighed. 'Maybe it's just coincidence.'

'Dad in all our years, when has it ever been a coincidence.' Dean pushed off out of his seat and made his way down the halls, John following close behind. They stopped in the doorway of their youngest and John eyed the salt line that circled Sam's bed.

'I think he talks to it.' Dean whispered. 'I think he's scared to do anything about it.'

John nodded and smiled sadly at his baby boy that lay curled under the covers. 'Tomorrow I'll try talking to him, find out if something is really going on…did you two run your laps?'

Dean looked up and shook his head. 'With the kitchen and TV…I forgot, sorry sir.'

John nodded. 'You can make it up after school tomorrow.' He patted Dean on the shoulder and nodded to the room down the hall. 'You look tired…get some sleep.'

Dean peered into his brother's room, hand on the door frame, and John felt that familiar lurch inside of him, uncertain if it was pride or remorse, for making Sam Dean's responsibility and putting that pressure on his boy, for making Dean feel like Sam was the only thing that mattered, he wondered if sometimes doing that to his oldest made him grow up to fast, act like more of a father figure and less of a brother, made him far too overprotective. 'Dean you put the salt circle around, and I'll be listening out.' Dean reluctantly nodded and his hand slid from the frame.

Neither Winchesters could see the black haired eleven year old who was stood on the outside of the circle, lips curled in a sneer and eyes so dark almost black, watching them leave.

* * *

Jeremy silently moved from Sam's room, unable to get close enough to his "friend" he felt himself bristling with rage towards those that had put down the salt that burnt his flesh and sent pain trembling throughout his form that he felt at any moment it could throw him into the darkness, that he strove to stay away from. Bare feet beneath torn pale jeans moved silently across the wooden floors, eyes scanning around at the walls that loomed up beside him in the darkness, trapping him, reminding him of the coffin he had been entombed for three years until the boy touched his headstone, until Sam came and his voice, calm and soft had enticed him from his restless slumber. He had never met someone like Sam, someone who was so selfless, so loved. With a family that cared.

Jeremy paused at the doorway of the brother. He had no one to protect him; he had had no one run to check on him when the mirror smashed. Now he felt safe…he felt liberated, felt like being next to Sam helped contain some of that anger that burned in his soul.

Stepping forward he lifted the pillow that had been knocked from the bed, because of Dean's restless movement and gripping the pillow tightly in his small hands he made his way to the bed. He stood over Dean and looked down at the boy; he studied the youth's face, from the freckles across his face to the long lashes that fluttered as he dreamt restlessly. 'He's mine now.' Jeremy whispered, lips curling up in a vicious smirk. Then lifting the pillow he slammed it down on Dean's face.

* * *

The heavy slap of the pillow shocked Dean awake and instantly he began to fight, hands ripped at the fabric that was pressed on his face, smothering him. He couldn't breathe, legs kicked, pushing the blankets from his bed. His left foot kicked the wall and he tried to push himself up, but whatever was holding the pillow down was strong. He tried desperately to find the hands holding the pillow, but he couldn't. His chest burned, and it hurt so bad, he let out a choked muffled sob. His legs slowed in movement and he felt himself grow light headed. He didn't want to die, he had to protect Sam, he had to help his Dad. Silently he cried in his head, pleaded for his Father's help as his arms feeling too heavy to lift dropped with a thud to his side.

* * *

**Spiritwolf13**- Okay guys, this is chapter one of what will be a 3 chapter story, so it wont be long, it was a story that suddenly popped into mind a couple of weeks back and ended up starting as a one-shot and becoming a chapter verse LOL. So I hope it wasn't too bad a start and that you'll want to read more?…..please please read and review and tell me what you think. 


	2. Chapter 2

Imaginary

Chapter 2

Summary: WEE!CHESTER FIC. They knew something was wrong. Sam's loosing control and Dean and John have to figure out what's happening before things go from bad to worse for the oldest of the three Winchesters.

* * *

Sam jolted awake at the first bang and immediately he cast a look around his room. For the past three nights Jeremy had been sat perched, watching him as he slept, grinning as Sam awoke, with eyes staring almost into his soul. Instead his room was empty, void of the dark haired child. 'Jeremy?' Another round of thuds and Sam's eyes widened all senses wide awake. Sliding out of bed he ran from his room.

'Dad?'

John was running from his room and he lifted a hand to his youngest warning him back. John ran for Dean's bedroom as the thuds slowed and he rammed it with his shoulder. The door refused to open and Sam let out a cry, understanding now what was happening, he sucked in a lungful of air and he screamed. A loud scream, which ended with Jeremy's name. Sam screamed with such anger that John was taken aback by such hostility from his normally calm child.

The door flew open and Sam looked beside him as Jeremy appeared shoulder to shoulder with the youngest Winchester. Dull eyes shone with displeasure and he turned his head away from the younger as Sam ran after John and into Dean's room, his heart beating so hard in his chest, fearing the worst.

* * *

Dean lay on his back, pillow on the floor beneath his arm that was stretched outwards, hanging over the edge of the bed, where it had fallen, fingertips outstretched towards the door, almost as if he was holding his hand out for someone, reaching out desperately for someone to take his hand and drag him out from the suffocating darkness. His face was pale in the dark of his bedroom and as John stumbled forward he could make out in the stretch of moonlight from the window above, his oldest lips were tinged with blue and he wasn't breathing.

'Dean!?' Sam shouted.

'Sam stay back!' John snapped, not wanting his youngest to see his brother like this.

'Dad?' Sam's voice sounded small and desperate, yet he stumbled forward ignoring his Fathers orders.

'Sam I said get back damn it!' John shouted as he pulled Dean onto the floor of his bedroom and tilted his eldest's head back. He placed his fingers on his neck and felt the faint throb of a heart beat, yet Dean had yet to take in a breath. 'Come on Dean.' Pinching Dean's nose, he breathed for his boy.

Sam's sobs in the background became choked and John had to blink back tears as he breathed twice more for his son. 'Dean come on, don't do this.' He put his hands on Dean's chest to do compressions, he had pressed down three times, when Dean suddenly lurched up with a harsh gasp, and he coughed painfully as the oxygen flooded his lungs. Unwanted tears leaked from the corner of his eyes and he was suddenly engulfed in a pair of strong familiar arms.

'Thank you.' John whispered. 'Thank you.' Dean's hands gripped the back of his shirt and he heard Sam sobbing still behind them.

Ever the big brother, Dean pulled away, still gasping and he reached for Sam. 'I'm…okay Sam.'

John backed off slightly, tears swimming in his green eyes and he let Sam take his place. The ten year old launched himself into Dean's arms and Dean closed his eyes, trying to hold back the fear that had raced through him, instead focusing on the small boy in his arms. 'It's okay.' He whispered again, half to himself, half to his family.

John lifted Sam from Dean and placing the young boy a few steps back he helped Dean to his feet and then sat him down on the bed, noticing his oldest still looked pale.

'What happened?'

Dean thought if he spoke he might break down and he turned to look at Sam before looking back up at his Dad. John nodded and taking Sam's arm gently in his he led him to his own room.

'Sam wait inside the salt line around your bed…don't come out of it. You understand!'

'Yes Sir.' Sam whispered as he climbed onto his bed. 'Is Dean…?'

'He's fine Sammy.' John told him and leaving the door opened he moved quickly back to Deans room.

Sam watched his father leave before turning cold hazel eyes on the black haired figure out the circle. They stared at each other silent and then after what seemed like an eternal silence Jeremy's lip twitched in an attempt to smirk and with a raged scream, Sam used the bed to propel himself forward and collide with the surprised spirit.

* * *

'What happened?' John stood in front of Dean, casting an eye over his oldest boy and as Dean looked up with unshed tears he felt his heart break…god his boy was only fifteen, how could he keep forgetting that. Kneeling down he became eye level with him and repeated his question.

'I couldn't breathe.' Dean whispered covering his face, his shoulders hunching. 'There was nothing there, but…I couldn't…it hurt, it was horrible….I'm sorry Sir.' Dean whispered.

'Sorry for what.' John was confused by the apology.

'Not protecting myself, for not being alert enough to see it coming.' Dean looked away from his Dad.

John opened his mouth to argue, to correct his son, to tell him that it wasn't his fault when the angered scream of his other son had him running for the door. Dean struggling to follow, the older boy's limbs were still sluggish in movement.

'Stay here.'

'Dad?' Dean shook his head. A heavy bang and the sound of crashing were soon heard from the other room and both bolted towards Sam's door.

* * *

Jeremy reacted immediately, snarling he kicked hard with his legs, so Sam went crashing back into the wall, his small ten year old frame landed on the bed and rolled on to the floor, momentarily winded. Jeremy took a step closer. A small fist curled over small white particles and as he took one step closer Jeremy felt like fire had rained down upon him, before he was thrown back into the drawers, they overturned with a loud crash and he screamed again as fire rained on him. _Salt _Yelling he picked up part of the broken drawer and flung it at Sam.

Recovered and standing Sam ducked and grabbed another handful of salt, ready to fling it once more at the boy.

'I'll kill them!' Jeremy screamed as the door burst open and John stepped into the room.

Sam froze and his head turned slowly.

John surveyed the room, stepping aside a little to allow Dean entry, both mouths dropped in shock of the destroyed room and Sam saw Jeremy's mouth curl in amusement, a sick sneer crossing his young features.

'What the hell? Sam!' John snapped, putting a hand on Dean, who was swaying a little as he stood beside him.

Sam let the salt fall through his fingertips, where they fell like small flakes of snow, dusting his bare feet and finding their place back in line with the rest of the ring, that had been disturbed as Sam had dragged his fist through the fine line of protection. Dean stepped forward and grabbed Sam roughly by the shoulders. 'What is it!?'

Jeremy stepped forward till he was stood directly behind Dean and Sam kept his eyes fixed with those of the dark soulless boy behind his brother. 'Nothing.' He whispered voice on autopilot. Dark eyes flashed once and Sam dragged his eyes to look at his brother, on seeing the green tired eyes he swallowed thickly. 'I promise Dean…' He crossed his toes and closed his eyes, before slowly re opening them. 'I promise, it's nothing, I was angry.'

'For what?'

Jeremy moved around Dean and standing behind Sam he put a hand on his shoulder, in what would have looked like a friendly gesture, but this wasn't and Dean noticed the shiver run through his brother's boy.

Jeremy whispered. 'I promise not to hurt them again tonight Sammo, if you make them leave.'

Sam closed his eyes. 'I'm tired Dean….I want to sleep.'

'I nearly died Sam!' Dean snapped trying to guilt his brother, ignoring John stepping forward, probably to say the same thing.

Sam let out a choked sob. 'I know…now please, please get out my room….please.'

Dean opened his mouth when John put a hand on his shoulder and steered the reluctant boy from the room. 'Dad!' Dean shouted in shock, pulling against the hand clamped down on his shoulder.

* * *

John looked over at Sam and saw his son looking down and to his left, eyes watering and fists twisted into the old tee he was sleeping in. Grabbing the door handle he pulled the door closed and span Dean round to face him, ready for the protective brother to suddenly explode on him.

Instead Dean glared up at him with confused eyes. 'Dad…something is in there with him…it tried to kill me, I know it did! How can you just leave him in there, why won't you make him talk! Make him tell us what's going on!' He pointed at the door; jerking his arm with such force that John was surprised the limb didn't fly from the body.

John grabbed the limb and shook his head. 'Whatever is in there, its intent is not to harm Sam, now as much as I hate not being able to do something, Sammy seems to be doing whatever it wants.'

'Us.' Dean whispered suddenly. 'It's threatening us, the thing that smothered me. It's using us to get Sammy to do what it wants.' Two sets of identical green eyes looked at the closed door before looking back at each other. 'What do we do?'

'We watch and we wait.' John answered leaning against the door. He watched Dean run back into his room, before returning with a bowie, Dean's first hunting knife, with a blade made of pure iron. He looked up at John and couldn't resist a small smirk.

'So I get out of school tomorrow right?'

John ignored Dean, but Dean managed to catch the small pull at the corner of his Father's mouth. Both of them sat with their backs to the door, ears listening for anything that may be out of the ordinary.

And on the other side, one small boy with dark brown hair curled and covering his eyes, sat on his pillow, arms wrapped around his knees as a black haired boy with eyes almost equal in colour sat watching him from the end of the bed.

* * *

Dean jolted awake, his arms flailing in panic as he felt something covering his face, his hand struck the wall and he yelped and rolled to the side, whatever was covering his face slid off as he slipped off the bed and lay on his back. Gasping he pushed himself onto his elbows, eyes drawn down to the grainy salt that ran a ring around his bed.

Looking up, his chest still heaving, he noticed the heavy blanket that was laying half on half off the bed, and he let out an embarrassed chuckle as he realised it was the blanket that had been covering him. He'd obviously fallen asleep at some point, and John had carried him to bed, covered him up, and during the night he had moved around until he had hid his head beneath the cover.

Pushing open the door to his room he glanced around the corner, noting his Dad's room door was open, revealing the empty un-slept in bed, twisting his head to the right he took note that his Dad was not outside Sam's room. His brother's door still closed. Panic spiked and he ran towards the door.

'Dean!'

His hand stopped a mere centimetre from the rounded brass handle and he lowered it slowly.

'It won't open. Whatever it is, it doesn't want us near Sammy.'

Dean sighed and moved towards his Dad. 'So what are we going to do?'

Jeremy slipped off the bed, not bothering to even look at the sleeping figure curled in the corner of the head of the bed. Stepping through the wall he smiled as Dean and John moved from sight.

* * *

A stirring on the bed pulled the child back and he turned to stare at Sam. Hazel eyes looked up and scanned the room, quickly connected with the dark eyes of his, as of late, constant companion. Groaning the ten year old pushed himself into a sit. 'Still here then.' Sam whispered, none of the rage from last night evident in his voice, it was more of a disappointed tone.

'I told you I was going nowhere.' Jeremy hissed back.

Sam shook his head and turned away, ducking his head so Jeremy could not see his eyes. Jeremy scowled, but yet couldn't help but feel somewhat proud of Sam. They were of the same age, yet Sam was stronger than any youth he had met. When he was Sam's age he was nervous and scared and spent most of his young life trying to find a new place to escape too, yet this boy was confident and had no fear of that, which Jeremy still, despite three years of death, couldn't understand.

Jeremy stepped closer and lifting a hand he placed it on Sam's shoulder, dark eyes staring at the youngest Winchester. Sam stared defiantly back.

'What now Sammo, what will you tell them….will you go in there and act like nothing happened?' He enquired, eyes darting to the window then the door.

'After what you did last night…you think….you think that my brother and Dad won't know something is here.' Sam hissed. 'You've been following me for three days….you have seen what my Dad does.'

Jeremy's smile vanished and the grip on Sam's shoulders tightened. 'Then you had better think of a way to get them off my back.' He whispered.

Sam felt cold tendrils crawl over him, the chill spreading throughout him till he shivered and his teeth clicked. 'I don't think I can.'

Jeremy threw Sam to the ground and knelt on one knee, arm laid casually across the other. 'You're not leaving me alone Sam….you bought me back…and I wont be alone anymore. I won't be pushed about anymore.' He spat. 'So if I have to get rid of that worthless family of yours…..' His lip curled and Sam leant away from the inhumane expression, turning his head slightly. 'Then I will.'

Sam clenched his jaw and spoke through gritted teeth. 'They're not worthless.'

Jeremy threw back his head and laughed a chilling laugh so full of malice that it sent a shiver racing through Sam's spine, and made goose pimples rise on the bare skin of his arms.

* * *

Dean glanced down at the array of papers on the kitchen table and his eyes widened at the title of one. 'You're kidding right.' He glanced up quickly as John sat opposite him and picked up a small stack of papers, some yellowing with age.

John scratched at the thick stubble on his chin, before shaking his head. Lifting the sheet Dean had looked at, he tossed it to his oldest.

'Imaginary friends.' Dean half chuckled, throwing the sheet of paper back onto the table with a shake of his head. 'Dad, they're imaginary! What Sam's dealing with is some sort of spirit.'

'I know.' John growled, not looking up from the article he was reading. Instead he waved his hand towards a stack of papers and his open journal. 'Last year in some town in Arizona a six year old claimed her imaginary friend strangled her Mom and stabbed her two month old brother. A hunter investigated the case after this same child then lost her grandparents and then her first foster parents…by this time the child was ten and still continued to claim it was her imaginary friend-'

'Ten year olds are too old to have imaginary friends Dad, that's why I'm finding this hard to believe.'

John sent his son a hard glare, a warning that didn't need vocalising.

'Sorry Sir.' He whispered, waiting for his Dad to continue.

'This hunter talked to the girl, two days later they found out that her imaginary friend was the spirit of her twin, who had died at a young age.'

Dean frowned, but allowed his Dad to continue. 'The body of the twin was salted and burned.' He stopped and nodded, knowing Dean would know the outcome.

'And that got rid of the spirit.' Dean whispered, his head moving to glance back through the living room to the empty hallway. 'So you think a spirit has attached itself to Sammy in the same way?'

John nodded. 'But the big question here Dean, is who?'

Dean and John both suddenly turned towards the door simultaneously as a cold wind drifted between the two of them. John stood up and grabbed for the pistol on the table and Dean stepped back so he was positioned slightly behind his father.

'And you're sure it's not going to harm Sammy?' Dean whispered.

'It shouldn't.' John moved forward. 'It see's Sam as a friend, something it can attach to, maybe to make itself feel alive, to feel the gap that was left behind when it didn't move on.'

The cold wind moved to behind them and John grabbed Dean's arm and dragged his son behind him again.

'Dad, Dean?' A tired and familiar voice spoke up from behind them.

'Sammy.' Dean sighed, straightening up, but his muscles were tensed, his body on high alert for anything that may be out of the ordinary. Both John and Dean exchanged a knowing look, both knowing that the object of their hunt was currently in the room watching them.

Striding across to the small ten year old, he put a comforting hand on his brothers shoulder and led him towards the kitchen. 'How about some breakfast kiddo?' As they entered the kitchen Dean saw Sam's eyes dart immediately to the cooker and he lifted his eyes to try and see what his brother could.

* * *

Jeremy sat himself on the top of the cooker, his body stiffening and his lip twitching as his eyes locked with Deans. The green eyes seeking for him. Jeremy ran a hand along the smooth metal surface, his hand stopping on one of the dials. He grinned sadistically.

He watched Sam carefully, keeping the young boy in his sight. Then his smile dropped as Sam picked up a sheet of paper, moving quickly he darted from the counter and grabbed the back of Sam's chair and pulled.

'Sammy!' Dean grabbed his brother's arm's, pulling him from the seat and safely onto his feet. Eyes quickly moving to meet his Father's accusingly. John was on his feet, watching his two boys carefully. The sheet of paper in Sam's hand had fallen as he had reached to Dean to set him straight and it floated to the ground, sliding beneath the table as it hit the linoleum floor.

Jeremy eyed its descent and smiled smugly. Sam turned to face him and once again Dean's eyes followed. Bending low Dean whispered in his brother's ear. 'Where is it Sammy?'

As Jeremy moved Sam followed him with his eyes, silently telling his brother the location of the spirit child. Jeremy noticed the move and his lips twisted into a sneer.

* * *

The boy darted forward and wrapping a hand around Sam's forearm it twisted and pulled Sam hard. Dean yelled as his brother was torn from his side and thrown onto the floor. John fired a random shot as Sam's eyes darted upwards to stare at the child that was kneeling beside him. The shot missed its mark and Jeremy lunged for a kitchen knife.

'NO!' Sam outstretched his arm as if pleading. 'Don't hurt them!'

Dean raced forward to reach for his brother, but something struck him hard from behind knocking Dean to the floor, the teen sliding across the floor and into the base of the cupboards the opposite side of the kitchen, a cold chill racing up his spine from the contact point. 'Son of a-' Another bullet passed through thin air as the knife was suddenly dropped, inches from Dean's nose, rendering the position impossible to find.

Sam scrambled upright and running he grabbed at something Dean and John couldn't see. 'DAD!' Sam screamed, and John lifting his arms shot at the space directly in front of Sam.

Jeremy saw the bullet coming and squirmed desperately in Sam's arms. 'Sam don't do this to me!' He screamed, his hands gripping painfully at the sides of Sam's face, ragged nails scratching marks down his face. As the bullet hit Jeremy in the side he jolted and his head snapped back. Dark eyes then slowly lowered to look at Sam as his body was released, contorting from the pure iron round. 'Sam.' He vanished and Sam stumbled back, a hand wiping at the small furrows in his skin.

Dean flung himself to his feet and ran to land at Sam's side. 'We don't have much longer Sam, he'll be back soon and he's gonna be pissed…okay, so tell me about him….'

Sam looked at John, who nodded his face grim and eyes serious as he watched the small trickle of blood, which fell almost like tears from the nail gouges in his son's face.

Sam covered his face. 'I'm sorry!' He cried. 'I didn't…He promised….I'm so sorry.' He flung his arms around Dean's waist and buried his face in his brother's chest.

Dean pried Sam from his waist and put a hand up to halt John as he took a step forward. 'Sam I know you are okay, but you gotta tell us what you know!' Dean wiped the blood from Sam's face with the sleeve of his tee and Sam lifted a hand to his cheek tracing the gouges in them.

'Jeremy.' He whispered.

Dean and John looked at each other, John suddenly remembering the frantic scream from last night, and he almost cursed himself for not remembering that name. John immediately descended on the table top and began scattering papers. 'When did he die Sam?' At the commanding tone Sam seemed to straighten and he took a shuddering breath.

'Three years ago.'

'Dates Sam I need dates!'

Sam grabbed at his hair, tugging on the curls, his lower lip trembling slightly as he shook his head, fingers still twisted in the dark mane of hair. 'I don't know!'

'Try and remember!' John snapped, ignoring the reproaching look of his oldest and the watery eyes of his younger.

'I don't…..The graveyard' He released Dean and grabbed hold of John's arm, a small smile on his face, almost proud at himself for remembering. 'I know where his grave is. Uh that tree…where you wanted me to keep watch last week….four stones along, it's the one with no flowers.' Sam missed the sad expression that broke through from his Father's mask and he closed his eyes, before opening them to survey the room, and then whispered. 'Jeremy Deacon.'

'Good job Sam.' John ruffled the mop of hair and grabbed the keys to the Impala heading for the door, Dean close behind. Reaching the motel door John put his hand out. 'No you're staying here.'

'Dad?' You'll need me to watch your back, its pure daylight out there…it's…someone-.' John put his hand up again and Dean immediately grew quiet.

'I need you to keep Jeremy occupied when he comes back for Sammy.' John glanced over Dean's head, the boy's gaze following his. 'I can think of something. Just do your job and watch out for your brother.'

Dean almost wanted to argue, but ever the soldier he nodded and stepped back. 'Yes Sir.'

John pulled open the door and nodded at his oldest before heading out to the Impala parked a few feet from the cabin. Dean pushed the door too and rested his back against it, a few seconds later the deep rumble of the Impala driving off was heard and Dean watched Sam run to the window to watch him off.

'You think he can get rid of Jeremy.' Sam asked.

'Dad can do anything Sammy.' Dean replied. 'Now come help me tidy up and warn me if you see him….Okay.'

Sam nodded and ran up aside his brother. 'What about school?' And Dean laughed.

'You're such a geek.'

* * *

Dean was lifting a folder from the table when a loud bang was heard from one of the rooms, dropping the files they floated to the floor, scattering all across the kitchen. 'Sam.' Sam stepped forward with a nod and Dean grabbed his brother and pulled Sam behind him. 'Stay behind me at all times.' Dean whispered as he lifted the shotgun from where John had propped it earlier against the wall.

Heading towards the bedrooms they heard a second bang. Sam froze and looked up at Dean for reassurance. 'Dean…it's coming from my room.'

Dean nodded and keeping Sam behind him, using his body as a shield, he put a hand on the handle and slowly turned the handle.

Sam's hand let go of Dean suddenly and flew to his mouth, fingers prying at the pale hand that had slapped over his mouth, he twisted in the hold and his eyes widened as cold breath tickled his ear. 'Miss me Sammo?'

A whimper escaped through the hand clamped over his mouth and he reached for his brother, who had stepped into his trashed bedroom, he was yanked back painfully and another whimper, louder this time, escaped and Dean whirled immediately. 'Sam?' His own eyes widened at the sight of his brother standing rigid, eyes wide with fear. 'No!'

The door slammed shut as Dean leapt forward towards his terrified sibling, the teen colliding into the wooden door. 'SAM!' Fumbling for the handle he began twisting it and ramming the door with his shoulder.

* * *

**Spiritwolf13**- WOW that's all I can say, I was so overwhelmed at the amount of people who reviewed, I didn't think I'd get that many and now I'm nervous about this one, I hope it still lived up to expectations and it wasn't too bad. Please Please review for me and tell me what you thought. THANKS SO MUCH to everyone who is reading! Hope you continue to enjoy! 


	3. Chapter 3

Imaginary

Chapter 3

Summary: WEE!CHESTER FIC. They knew something was wrong. Sam's loosing control and Dean and John have to figure out what's happening before things go from bad to worse for the oldest of the three Winchesters.

* * *

Jeremy ached, his whole being trembling with the after effects of the iron that had been shot through his small body. Dark eyes stared opposite Sam at the door, almost if he was able to see right through it a wicked smile donning his face as he thought about the boy on the other side. He and Sam both watched the merciless pounding of the door and Jeremy could sense the fear in Sam.

'Scared of me….you should be…you betrayed me Sammo.'

Sam clawed at the hand and tried shaking his head, but Jeremy sneered and tightened his hold. 'No?! Yes you did! Now they will pay for it! Then you will die and I will catch your soul and force it to spend eternity with me…I won't be alone….Not anymore.'

Sam tried to reason, but the cold hand was still pressed across his mouth, Jeremy standing directly behind. Taking the chance he reared forward and then before Jeremy realised what he was doing, threw his head back and into the evil spirits nose.

The hand disappeared and Sam ran for John's room, knowing his Dad would have weapons; Jeremy reappeared in front of him and held his hands out ready to catch the youngest Winchester. Sam gritted his teeth and using all the strength he could muster, the small ten year old collided with the ghost, knocking Jeremy down and leaping over the fallen solidified spirit.

'No!' Jeremy rolled onto his stomach and grabbed for Sam's foot as it landed, he missed and scrambling up he lunged towards the bedroom.

Sam turned sharply as a scream, high and pained, echoed through the house. 'What…Yes!' Sam laughed, the high giggle erupting into a loud one of triumph as Jeremy stepped back from the salt line that lined his Father's bedroom door, his face twisted in agony.

Jeremy snarled. 'Say goodbye to your big brother Sammo!' The dark mop of hair cast shadows across the upper half of the spirits face and combined with the sadistic grin it gave the young spirit and ominous look, and Sam felt a shiver race up his spine. Jeremy made sure to make eye contact before he lifted a hand in a mock then vanished from sight, Sam's furious yell of denial following him.

'Crap…Dean.' Sam ran for the bed and dove under it, scrabbling around he pulled the black duffle from underneath and opened it, grabbing at the clothes he began pulling everything from inside tossing the items uncaringly onto the floor, until his small hand wrapped around the barrel of a shotgun. 'Please be iron…please.' Pulling it free he hefted the weapon in his hand and checked the ammo inside, letting out a sigh of relief as he found it had what was needed, lifting his hand he brushed the dark locks of hair from his face and headed towards the door…just as the banging on his bedroom door ceased and a gun shot followed by a loud crash was heard from inside…followed by a deathly silence that had Sam almost flying towards the door.

* * *

John slammed the impala door in his hasty exit, keys gripped so tight in his hands that they left deep white indents in his hands. Running around to the trunk he popped it and grabbing the lighter fluid and salt, stashed them in the inside pocket of his jacket. His wedding band clinked against the shovel handle and he paused a second, staring down at the gold ring, now more than a ring that they had exchanged with promises and love, but as a reminder to what he was doing this for. He squeezed his eyes shut and then nodding wrenched the shovel from the car, slamming the trunk as he headed into the graveyard and towards the gnarled old tree that sat almost centre of the graveyard.

Looking around he noticed a few visitors, but not too many. Glancing at his watch he realised that it was still quite early, barely ten yet. Hopefully that meant it would be a lot easier and a lot quieter. Hurrying over ground, he scanned the gravestones as he approached the tree, which looked less formidable in the clouded morning light.

One overgrown plot caught his eye and making his way towards it; he crouched and looked at the name. He shook his head as he looked at the unkempt grave and the small area free of mud on the stone, that his youngest boy's caring hands had wiped clean. The gravestone was simply a name and date of birth and death, no caring limerick or words to display the loss that the parents and friends had suffered, no darling brother and son, no will be missed. John realised now why the spirit had not moved on, why it had attached itself to his boy. The evidence was in the abandoned grave.

Casting one quick look around, he plunged the shovel deep into the soft earth.

* * *

Dean had resorted to kicking at the door, slamming the heel of his foot time and time again into the weak point like he had been instructed, but the door merely shuddered and held. His foot ached and he was sure he'd have a bruise on the base of his bare foot, but it didn't deter him and he found something to try and pick the lock, but nothing worked. 'SAM!' He turned back to ramming the door, wriggling the handle, anything.

He heard the pounding of feet and then a high scream that made his insides turn to ice and he pounded on the door with his fists. A laugh, he paused a moment, then heard another and recognised it. 'Thank god.' He pounded the door again and again, it barely moved.

A cold breeze suddenly brewed behind him and Dean tensed, then let his hands slide down the door and bending slowly he reached for the shotgun, his lip peeking between teeth as he slowly stood back up. Adjusting his grip he sharply turned, his finger squeezing on the trigger. Before the gun could even discharge something wrenched the gun from his hand and he was flying.

His back arched and his head rang as he collided with the wall, before dropping down onto Sam's already broken drawers with a crash and slowly sliding to the floor, where he lay close to unconsciousness, his eye blinking and hands curling in the carpet in an attempt to regain his composure.

Jeremy glared down at him, a sneer dawning his features, his dark hair hanging low of his face, dull eyes just watching the teen lying at his feet. Reaching down he pushed Dean onto his back. 'He'll be mine now….I won't be alone.'

…_mine….ow…..won…alo…_

Dean groaned and his eyes widened as he heard fractured words. He heard them, in a young almost emotionless voice, almost robotic in tone. 'Not yours!' Dean growled. _Come on Dad. _

There was a thud and Sam's voice muffled, but understandable was heard on the opposite side of the door, calling desperately for his brother. Dean opened his mouth to respond and Jeremy growled, growled like a possessive dog, and wrapped his hands around Dean's neck.

Dean felt the icy cold fingers wrap around his neck, and instantly his hands flung to find the owner. Hands tightened and he flailed, he wouldn't suffer again, not like this, not with the burn, that ache he had in his chest too painful to fathom. As the hold tightened further he wriggled and reached desperately for the shotgun, his vision began to swim and he felt the weight of something heavy on his chest, he felt ashamed as a tear escaped the corner of his eye.

'How does it feel Dean?!' Jeremy snarled as he watched the fear in Dean's eyes. 'How does it feel to die….To not be able to breathe, to have no control!' His lip curled and he dug his nails into the soft flesh. 'Sam's mine now…I need him!' Jeremy snapped.

_Does….i….fe…ean…..fe…el…di….no...ab…e...bre...no..co…ol….Sa…min…nee….m_

Dean's eyes flashed angrily as the broken sentences reached his ears once again, and even as his mind fogged and that familiar pain burned in his chest, he heard his brother's name and it seemed to feed the flame. As his vision darkened his hand fell and touched something grainy. Fingers curled and with the last of his strength he hurled it upwards. There was a shriek and the pressure was gone from his neck, rolling to his side he coughed, huge hacking cough that burned the lungs and seized the chest.

Getting on his hands and knees he pulled the shotgun towards him, pressing it against his chest, like a child would a cherished toy. Green eyes surveyed the room and he cursed the face that his attacker was invisible, it made everything so much harder, and it was a situation he had never found himself in before. There was the sound of another gun going off and a hole was blasted in the door, but it remained closed. 'Dean!'

* * *

His brother's frantic call and Dean rising to his feet staggered towards the door and rattled the handle. 'Sammy.' His voice was hoarse and sounded forced.

'Dean are you okay? I tried to warn you-'

'It's okay Kiddo.' He turned around and looked behind him. 'Sam is he out there with you?'

He could see Sam searching around before looking back through the hole. 'No…but the door is still not opening, so he must be somewhe- DEAN! Behind you!'

Dean span and his eyes widened at the dark haired boy standing in the centre of his younger siblings room. He took in the small frame and the wild black hair. 'I can see him.' Dean whispered, surprised, raising the shotgun in his hand.

Jeremy lifted his head and smirked, his eyes locking with Dean's. He took a step forward. 'Not a chance in hell.' Dean hissed and squeezed the trigger on the gun. Jeremy's lifeless eyes seemed to brighten for a moment as he stepped aside and ran forward, Dean able to see the boy, who was flickering in and out of invisibility like a bad television picture, stepped aside and swung the shotgun like a club, the barrel hit Jeremy across the face before the spirit could make himself translucent.

'Dean!' Sam pounded on the door and Jeremy looked to the gap.

'You can't have him!' Dean growled and before Jeremy could move an iron round tore through the spirits chest. The black haired boy screamed a mixture of rage and pain before disappearing from sight.

* * *

The door clicked and swung open, and Sam ran forward to grab at his brothers arm. 'Dean?'

'I saw him Sammy….and that was one creepy looking kid.' Dean shook his head, batting his brother's hands away gently as they tugged at his brother's shirt, trying to reach the taller boys reddened and soon to bruise neck to inspect it. 'Not now.' He croaked, clearing his throat a little hoping to rid it of the husky tone it had taken on from the near strangulation. He took the shotgun from his sibling. 'Come on, he'll be back soon.' Holding onto Sam's wrist he pulled him from the room.

'Dad's room.' Sam halted, stopping Dean and then proceeded to tug the older of the two behind him.

'Good idea Sam.' Dean said, following his brother.

Stepping over the salt line Dean sat Sam down on the bed before checking the rest of the room.

'He can't get in here, he's already tried…I don't think he can get in your room yet, he passes the door really wide.' Sam told him. Sliding off the bed he walked up to the line and stared down the hall. 'You think Dad's okay? Do you think Jeremy has gone to him yet?' He turned to look at Dean.

'I don't know Sammy.' He cleared his throat again and rubbed at his neck, wincing. Yep he definitely wouldn't be going to school for the next week or so, he smiled a little at the thought.

Sam nodded and turned back to the doorway, he leapt back with a strangled gasp, Jeremy was standing a few centimetres from his face, from the opposite side of the line, a disturbing sneer and dark eyes focused towards Sam, black hair standing almost on end as he crackled with a dark energy that caused the light in the hallway to flicker and blow, and before he even opened his mouth a gunshot was heard and he dodged and disappeared, the lamp in the living room flickering angrily in the distance.

Dean hauled Sam to his feet and lowered the gun. 'He's keeping his distance.' They both looked upwards as the light above flickered and he thanked that Jeremy hadn't decided to go completely psycho at night. Dean pulled Sam to him as a picture frame shook and fell close to where his brother had stood.

Sam glanced around and gripped tightly at his brother's arm as the cabin seemed to shake, the lights flickering, pictures and objects falling from walls and shelves. The sound of breaking glass and china told Dean their kitchen had been hit by the whirlwind that was Jeremy.

'Why's he doing this?' Sam whispered quietly, turning towards Dean.

The bulb above them shattered and Dean covered Sam's head as the glass reigned down on them both. A gale of wind flew through the house and Dean's eyes widened as he noticed the salt from the bedroom door slowly parting, small gaps beginning to appear.

'No!' He swung up the shotgun as Jeremy appeared quickly before him, with a jerk of his dark matted head Dean flew back against the headboard.

Sam screamed and lunged for Jeremy; Jeremy wrapped his hands around Sam's wrist and held him close. 'You want me to go….you're like everyone else…I thought you cared, no one cared…..but you'll stay with me, whether you want to or not!'

'SAM!' Dean pushed himself up and grabbed the gun from where it had fallen. _Dad what are you doing? Please be okay._

Jeremy threw Dean back and opening the closet threw Dean inside. The heavy wooden doors slamming shut and holding closed.

Sam looked fearfully towards it. 'DEAN!'

'I'll deal with Dean in a minute….' His voice sounded gravely, more inhumane, it was low and harsh, his dark soulless black eyes narrowed and looking deep into Sam's.

Sam shook his head. 'Jeremy please….I didn't mean for this to happen.'

'Liar!' Jeremy screamed, tightening his grip, making it bruising.

They ignored the frantic pounding of the closet and stared at each other, Sam's eyes a mixture of fear and regret. Sam wrapped his free hand around Jeremy's wrist, fingers pressing to cold flesh. 'Jeremy this has to stop! Dean didn't do anything, my Dad didn't…you can't hurt-' Sam's head snapped to one side as Jeremy punched him, hard, knocking Sam to the ground.

Sam rubbed at the fresh blood now tricking from the opened cuts on the side of his face. Sam pushed himself up on his elbows, scrabbling back as Jeremy stepped forward and vanished from sight, making himself invisible even to the youngest. Sam scrabbled for something, a hand grabbed his ankle as his own hand enclosed around something solid, not bothering to look he swung it.

* * *

John heard the thud as his shovel hit wood, and he thumped it back down twice. A smirk, similar to his eldest's, graced his face and he stood up straight, bracing himself, he bought the shovel down hard several times until the wood around the nails splintered and cracked. After three hits he paused and listened out. Seemed fortune was on his side, when John realised that his activity, for now, had gone unnoticed. Shifting his weight he bent low and pried open the coffin.

Reeling back from the smell he threw his shovel out the hole and followed suit. From where he stood he could see the entrance to the cemetery and having a quick look around he noticed that the lot was now vacant.

All he needed now was to burn the bones and quick, Jeremy hadn't appeared to him, an that meant that he couldn't leave Sam, which indicated that while he stood here, his son's could be in danger. Pulling the salt and gasoline out he poured it liberally over the decaying corpse, before pulling a box of matches out from the pocket of his jeans. Striking the match he held it over the open grave and released it. Watching with a stoic expression as the little boy's body went up in flames.

* * *

Jeremy's hand shot up unseen by Sam's eyes and grabbed the object, his fingers curled around the barrel of the gun and Sam looked down at it, before he smirked and curling his fingers around the trigger he pulled it. Jeremy screamed and the closet door burst open, Dean rolling out of it, landing in a heap on the carpet, half in half out of the closet.

Both brothers exchanged glances and Dean scrambled to his feet, running towards his little brother. His hand was an inch from touching Sam's when he was thrown aside, he hit the bed and rolled off the other side, landing hard on the other side. Jeremy turned raged eyes on Sam.

'Jeremy don't.' Sam struggled to his feet and lifted the gun.

'Sammy.' Dean called, getting to his feet on the other side of the room.

Jeremy lowered his head and curled his fist. 'It didn't have to be this way Sam.' He hissed.

Sam stared straight at him and he pressed his finger over the trigger. Jeremy lifted his head and Sam fired the gun as Jeremy leapt towards Dean.

Dean rolled aside and as Jeremy landed he twisted, the bullet passed between him and Dean. Sam let out a cry pressing down again on the trigger, his face twisting into an expression of horrors as the gun clicked, but no bullet was shot. 'No…Jeremy please!' Sam screamed as Dean was pinned against the wall. 'Jeremy!'

Suddenly Jeremy convulsed, his head snapped back and his hands and body seemed to shake violently. Small screams tore from his throat and Dean turned his head as Jeremy lifted his hands, flames burst from his pale skin and he shook his head. 'No…no….no.' He backed from Dean, who fell to his knees as he was released from the wall. Jeremy turned to one person who he thought may help him, a flaming arm outstretched. 'Sam!' He screamed as the fire raced up and down his body. Dark eyes suddenly alight with fear as he was consumed by flames. 'Sam!'

Sam shielded his eyes as the flames grew brighter, before the flickering tendrils of red and orange seemed to suck inwards on themselves and small dustings of ash drifted to land on the floor before they too vanished from sight. Sam didn't know he was still staring at the blank space until hands were on his shoulders and his brother's comforting voice reached his ears. 'Dad did it Sam….He's gone now, it's over.'

He turned and looked up at Dean and nodded, before looking back over at the blank spot, as if expecting the dark troubled spirit to suddenly return, instead it remained still and both brothers' heads turned as the only surviving wall mount, a large ornate mirror swung lazily by its hook opposite the bed slipped and fell, smashing into a dozen glittering pieces.

There was a beat of silence before Dean chuckled; Sam glanced up at him with a confused frown. 'This place is a mess.' Dean indicated the whole house by throwing both his arms up, his voice still rasping a little. 'Better start cleaning up Sam….Dad's going to kill ya.'

Sam smiled and shook his head and held out his hand for Dean to help him to his feet. Once standing he bent and picked up several pictures, setting them on the bed, before picking up the clothes that had been spread around the room. Dean knelt down beside him and started to gather up the shards of the mirror, and when Sam went to help he waved him off. 'You're beat enough, I'm not having you cutting yourself too…and put some shoes on, there's glass and shit all over the place.'

Sam looked down at his bare feet and nodding he picked up his Dad's duffel and put it on the bed before running off down the hall to find his shoes.

* * *

The familiar rumble of their Dad's Impala had both boys dropping the items in their hands…Dean's not such a wise idea as he dropped the only un-smashed mug they had left and Sam cast him on of those 'you dumbass' looks before running for the window to look out. Dean smiled and wiping his hands on his jean's, ran towards the door.

John pushed the door open with enough force that it hit the wall hard, leaving a long indent behind it and had barely taken another step forward when his youngest threw himself into John's arm, knocking him back a few steps.

'Dad!' Dean beamed as he slowed to a stop in front of him.

'You boys okay?' John asked, taking in the cuts on San's face and bruises on his wrist and face, and the hand print bruising around Dean's neck and husky voice. He reached over Sam's head and put a hand on Dean's shoulder.

'Yes sir.' Both spoke simultaneously.

'What bout you Dad?'

John looked at his eldest and smiled. 'I'm good Son.' It was something he admired, but regretted about Dean, that his boy always put the other wellbeing before himself. 'But I think we should skip town, I don't think anyone saw me, but that's the second grave now, and this one was in a more obvious position.' He saw Sam's face fall and he felt that icy clench on his heart. 'Now go and start packing….we should be heading out anyway we've been here a few weeks now.'

'Yes Sir…come on Sammy.' Dean nodded at his Dad and steered Sam to the pit of a room that Jeremy had destroyed.

'Sammy?' John called. Both boys stopped and turned to him. 'Is he definitely gone?'

Sam looked around and then nodded.

'Good…and next time Sammy, you don't hide something like that from us….spirits are dangerous, they're not to be messed with or to make bargains with…understand.'

Sam nodded 'Yes Sir…Sorry.'

'I know you are Sam, but he could have killed Dean, he nearly killed both of you….just promise me you won't do it again.'

Sam nodded. 'I promise.'

John let out a heavy sigh as Sam headed towards his room and as both were out of sight he sat down on the couch and ran a hand through dusty hair, his hands trembling slightly at the close call and he wondered not for the first time if it was all worth it.

* * *

John looked up at the tell tale sounds of his son's shuffling feet. Without looking up he could tell instantly it was his youngest. 'What's wrong Sam?' John straightened up from searching the floor of his room for anything he might have missed.

Sam handed John a piece of a newspaper clipping. 'He didn't deserve it.' Sam whispered as John took the clipping. He looked down at the timid picture of the dishevelled black haired child on the front.

'Was this Jeremy?'

'I found it under the table when we were cleaning up the kitchen.' Sam whispered. 'His Dad killed him.' He saw John stiffen. 'He beat him and strangled him, then dumped his body by the pond down on Charlton.' Sam spoke quietly. 'I don't understand how something…he was his Dad….you know…at first I wanted to help him, but he….I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Jeremy, I was going to, I was…then he changed…he became angry.' Sam sighed. 'He didn't deserve to become what he was. He had no control…right?'

John couldn't help but stare at the boy on the page and then back at his own son. 'Sammy….what happened to him was terrible and it kept him from moving on, that's why he became angry. Because he couldn't understand it himself.' John murmured setting the clipping on the bed stand.

'How could his Dad do that to him….I just don't understand.' Sam shook his head.

'Nor do I Sam, but you have to understand that evil comes in all shapes and forms, not just in the creatures that hide in the dark. That's why you must always be prepared and why you have to trust in me and your brother and tell us when things seem bad.' John glanced up as he heard his eldest appear at the door. 'Dean…you packed?'

'Yep, everything's by the door.' Dean nodded glancing between his brother and father. 'You okay?'

John cleared his throat and nodded. 'Yeah…..Sam go help Dean put the bags in the car okay.'

Sam nodded and standing on the bed he wrapped his arms around his Dad and John welcomed the hug, Sam gave him one of his dimpled grins before jumping from the bed and running to his brother. 'Come on Dean.' He grabbed at his arm and tugged.

Dean ruffled his hair and pushed him down the hall. 'I'm coming.' He looked behind him at John who was sitting on the bed. 'It's okay Dad…I'm watching out for him.' He said with utter seriousness, in a way that no fifteen year old should have to speak.

John nodded and waved at Dean to go help Sam.

Dean offered him a smiled and looked over his shoulder, the smile becoming a grin as he called after his brother, running to help him. 'Hey Sam, you got to run those laps before you load the bags.'

John heard a squeak and an answering yell. 'No I don't.'

'That's what Dad just said.'

'Liar! No he didn't.' He heard Sam shout and he shook his head, from the tone, he knew that, that kid would be a handful when he got older.

John shook his head, as the voices got further away and he heard the slam of the front door. The corners of his lips turned up in a smile as he heard his boys still bickering from inside, the two increasing in volume, funny how they can slip into such a comfortable routine after going through something that almost had them lose one another. He picked up his duffel and slung it over his back glancing around him quickly at the destroyed cabin. As he got nearer the front door he heard two muffled shouts and the thump as someone, probably Sam was hit.

'DAD!' Definitely Sam.

John smiled and then put on what would seem to those that couldn't read him like his boys, an angered expression, before opening the door. _God these two, what would I do without them? _'BOYS!'

END

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**Spiritwolf13-** Okay I'm still reeling from all the reviews I got and now I feel like I've screwed up the ending, its so hard to finish off a story…I find the beginning and the end are always the hardest for me, so please please review and tell me what you thought. And thanks so much to everyone who has been reading and I'm sorry it's a short story, but I do have a long one in the works, which hopefully should be up soon. Thanks again and I hope I didn't disappoint. Oh and I'm sorry if I wrote John too OOC, I've never found it easy to do the oldest Winchester. 


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